I looked up to find Ben, the team's backup goalie, gesturing to 32B.
Great.
"It's all yours," I said, shifting closer to the aisle.
Ben was one of the few Betas on the team, which made him safe. Neutral. But as he settled in beside me, his expression was troubled.
"You okay?" I asked.
He sighed softly. "Just wondering when someone's going to do something about Maddox."
My stomach clenched. "What do you mean?"
"He's getting worse. That fight with Peterson, now he's stalking around practices like he's going to murder someone." Ben lowered his voice. "Some of the guys think he's going into rut."
"He's not," I said automatically, though I wasn't entirely sure. Knox's control had been fraying for weeks, but rut would explain the increased aggression, the territorial behavior, the way he looked at me like I was gonna be his last meal. He wanted to devour me.
"Then what's his problem?" Ben’s right eyebrow had raised quizzically.
Me. I’m his problem.
"I can't discuss patient information," I said instead. “Confidentiality and all.”
Ben sighed again and nodded in understanding before throwing his head back against the seat he now occupied.
The plane pushed back from the gate, engines humming to life. As we taxied toward the runway, I caught myself glancing toward the front. Knox hadn't moved, still appeared to be sleeping.
Then his head turned slightly, and our eyes met across thirty rows.
Fuck!
My breath caught.
Even from this distance, I could see his jaw clench, could feel the weight of his dark gaze like a physical touch. The patches behind my ears started to burn.
I looked away first, staring determinedly at my tablet as we took off. Seattle disappeared beneath clouds, and I tried to lose myself in medical charts. But concentration was impossible.My skin felt too tight, too warm despite the aggressive air conditioning.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're getting reports of severe weather at our destination. We may experience some turbulence..."
The pilot's voice faded as another wave of heat washed through me. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The suppressants weren't just feeling weaker, they were failing entirely. I could feel my body fighting against them, my hormones surging despite the pharmaceutical blockers.
No. Not here. Not trapped on a plane with twenty-three hockey players, a good bit of them Alphas.
I excused myself, stumbling toward the bathroom. My legs felt weak, shaky, and I had to grip seat backs to stay upright. Several players looked up as I passed, nostrils flaring slightly.
They could smell it. The change beginning in my body.
The bathroom was barely big enough to turn around in, but I locked myself inside and immediately checked the patches. They were both still in place, but my skin underneath was red, irritated. Rejecting them.
"Fuck fuck fuck," I whispered, splashing cold water on my face.
My heat wasn't due for another week. But stress could trigger it early. Stress like being trapped in an enclosed space with an Alpha who made every cell in my body scream to be claimed.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"Occupied," I called out.
"Harper." Knox's voice, low and urgent. "Open the door."
